Presence
by tFantasyFan
Summary: Post-Water 7 Usopp angst, with just a bit of almost fluff.


_I dunno where this came from, exactly. It's like a combination of 3 prompts I found on livejournal and I just kept typing. Some serious Water 7 spoilers, with implications of rape (though I suppose it could also be construed as just more violence) and there's violence (which should've gone before the 'more violence' bit) and minimal language. Oh, and heavy on Usopp angst, because he's my favorite and I'm still not above blatantly catering to my favorites. –wilts-_

_Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm over it. Once you've written a disclaimer for any fandom, it starts to get easier._

* * *

When the huge guy in the mask- _what's his name, it's something so simple, he's sure of it_- tells his 'family' that they can play with him for a while before walking away, Usopp doesn't feel much of anything at all. All that matters is the case in his hand, the money, the only chance they had of repairing Merry, slipping farther away with every second. Somewhere in his mind, he compares it to trying to hold water in cupped hands- every effort that he could make to get it back would just result in worse loss, even if he's also sure that Luffy or Zoro or Sanji could have stormed this place and gotten it in no time. Just the way he's sure that of course, _of course _he's the only crew member weak enough to get into this situation in the first place, so pondering what anybody else would do is just an idiotic distraction.

This train of thought serves to remind him of his own bitter failure and for a few moments, even as the first couple of blows land on his already aching body, he's too absorbed in the cruel, disembodied numbness of it all -_Franky, he suddenly thinks, and it gives him a feeling of having accomplished something even if he's no longer sure what's so important about a name-_ to bother paying the group in the room any mind. There seems to be some kind of black hole forming in the pit of his stomach and he briefly closes his eyes against it and tries to pretend that it isn't guilt or grief or shame or hopelessness but seeing the darkness just intensifies the feeling for some reason; would it be better, he wonders, to open them again and stare at that damn door until he died and they rotted away?

But no, he tells himself, it wouldn't end that way.

Because the others knew what he'd done and they would follow him here and rescue him- _for some reason just the thought of it makes him nauseous_- because they always did stupid things like that. Briefly, he takes up the effort of picturing what would happen in the aftermath, how they were going to glare at him and tell him he was useless and maybe they would finally do the smart thing and cut off the dead weight that he brought to the table. The idea shatters like something fragile in the hands of his captain, even though he wants to believe that it will happen, because if they hate him then it's okay for him to hate himself-

-_he can still see Luffy and Chopper looking up at him with those wide, admiring eyes, and Zoro and Sanji pretending not to listen even though they're just as invested in the story as anyone else, and Robin giving him that mysterious amused stare and Nami is rolling her eyes but it isn't that bad because she smiles while she does it; and he suddenly realizes, then, that they liked the fact that he could lie and they didn't care if he needed a little more protection than the rest of them-_

-and he wishes that once, just once, he could believe his _own_ stories, because the thought of being forgiven or rescued or tended to just isn't sitting well with him and he hates those happy memories with such a passion now. That disintegrating feeling is starting to hurt him, now, and it spreads out through his entire body and reminds him of exactly what's happening, and that just makes everything start to hurt even more.

The first thing that Usopp is truly aware of is somebody's fist slamming into the side of his face, bringing with it the realization of just how cold the floor is and how painfully tight the fingers on his arms are getting- and he's making delayed efforts to struggle, to get free and run, run like his entire being is telling him to do because he's a pathetic coward and he just knows that he wouldn't be the only one to think so. He finds that he can't take even one footstep in any direction; which just informs him that his weakness- his stupid legs and arms and just everything about him- is holding him back, yet again, and it would cause trouble for his friends, _yet again. _

They seem to notice that he's suddenly growing responsive and he can practically feel the excitement in the air, they're like cats playing with an injured rodent, clawing at him, throwing him to the side, catching him when he tries to run and leaving him battered and bloody in their wake. He can't bring himself to see any of their faces, can't remember some moments where he was in one position and suddenly finds himself across the room with his nose getting crushed into the wall. Everything is made of jumping images, searing impressions and fragments that don't make sense.

Somebody cuts his face with a pocketknife, licks off his blood and tells him that it tastes like shit-

-_and there was his mother, standing at the stove and frowning the way she always did when she thought he wasn't looking-_

-when the man's foot connects with his torso he thinks that he can hear his ribs cracking-

-_Zoro, looking at him with something that almost resembled respect after all the hellish events in Alabasta had finally settled down, telling him to sleep because Chopper had said something about the dangers of four ton bats-_

-there's spit slowly oozing down the left side of his face, warm and disgusting-

_-he built up his resolve and asked Luffy about his father and the captain just smiled and chided him for taking so long-_

He wants to cry, to beg and to tell them to _stop, please stop _because they're _hurting him _and the hands are holding him down for something entirely different now and he thinks he can feel a sob rising up in his throat and he suddenly realizes that he's alone and _afraid_. There's a voice in his head and it sounds too much like Zoro and too much like Sanji but it isn't either of them, it's someone entirely new, and it tells him to shut the hell up; he'd gotten himself into this and the consequences were his to face. And if he's going to die like this, he's got to do it with some kind of honor or dignity: and if he's not going to die like this, he should at least wait for a rescue with some kind of composure.

Except there's nothing honorable or dignified about the filthy, sticky, rancid fingers crawling over him; there's not going to be a rescue, not this time. The only thing that keeps him from crying like a child is the fact that he thinks he's out of tears and even though he knows that no one is going to come in at the last minute in a burst of heroic triumph to spare him, he also knows that he _does. Not. Want. To. Die._

Which really only leaves him with one other option.

It's only because he's afraid of dying- _terrified, his inner storyteller suggests_- and the knowledge hurts him, but he still stops struggling. And when whoever's speaking orders him to open his mouth, he does and it _hurts, _it hurts like something clawing its way out of his chest in the slowest and most painful way imaginable, but he still doesn't close it and he doesn't cry, and the voice in his head is grimly proud of that.

Everything was distant even while it was painfully clear, and he feels everything even while it's like he can see it from outside his own body, and Usopp isn't sure just yet whether or not that was making the entire ordeal worse (not that he could change anything if it was). Something in him withers and falls away from everything else and suddenly he just knows.

He can't- he could never…he could never go back, not after this, he couldn't look his nakama in the eyes, never again, it would never be the same and somehow that's more terrifying than the prospect of death or what's happening at this very moment. Because he can still remember their faces-

-_Sanji cutting his sandwiches into triangles just the way his mother used to do, even though he'd only mentioned it as an amusing side story, and Chopper apologizing for not protecting the ship (what was it called again, that ship he'd wanted to fix?) even though he'd gotten hurt doing his very best- _

_-_and how can he ever smile at them again, knowing this new level of defeat was something they all would have died rather than endure?

There could be no just amount of apologizing for screwing up so many times in one day and in the back of his mind, he wonders if he doesn't deserve what's happening after all. The others would just forgive him, even though he'd lost all their money, even though he needed some kind of punishment for getting caught off-guard. Anyone else would have known they were approaching.

His ears are ringing, but he still remembers the way they'd laughed when they robbed him and it wasn't nearly as loud as they're laughing now; they're exactly the kind of people that he's always hated, the kind that enjoy stripping someone else of any dignity, any pride, any _anything _that they have while they're too- _weakweakweakweakweak- _helpless to fight back.

And even if he were at his strongest, he thinks that he wouldn't be able to put up a fight anyway.

When they're done with him they drag him outside and leave him in the dirt like a pile of worthless trash and he isn't the least bit indignant about it. He feels like trash. He looks like trash. If anything, it makes perfect sense. If he could, he would stand up and leave, find someplace to hide where Luffy and the others wouldn't find him and if they thought he was dead it was probably better that way.

But he can't, so he doesn't.

And everything comes pressing down on him then, and somehow it's more terrifying than anything else that's had him scared since they arrived at this godforsaken city, because there's nothing between him and his memories and his injuries and between all three factors he didn't think he could take the _pain_ and-

-when Usopp shoots up in his bed with a barely recognizable pained scream, surrounded by shadowy figures and with somebody's hand on his shoulder, his first instinct is to jerk away and to try to find something to fight with because there's no way in hell that he's not going to fight this time. It's dark and he's confused and there are sweaty sheets tangled up all around him and instead of taking the hint, the hand seemed to have just been summoning reinforcements because he can feel at least three now.

And had he thought he was out of tears? He couldn't have thought so because he could still feel them, welling up in his eyes and streaming down his face while he struggled to get out of wherever the hell this was and he didn't care if it was embarrassing or cowardly, not anymore. Those voices, he couldn't tell if they were in his head or not but they really couldn't be because he wasn't crazy and they were so _close _and why were they letting this happen-

"-stop moving, damn it, you're going to hurt yourself more-"

"-oi, snap out of it, it was-it was just a dream-"

"Stop interrupting me, it'll just confuse him and scare him more!"

"Shut up, neither of knows what we're doing-"

"Why don't you do something _useful_ and go get the shitty doctor, then?"

"-ey, what's wrong with longnose-bro?"

His breath comes in a sharp inhale and he sits still immediately, harboring some kind of irrational hope that being still, holding his breath, means that that voice, that _guy_, won't notice him all of a sudden. The sudden change startles the rest of the room's occupants into silence of their own- _Zoro, he determines, Sanji and Zoro and __**him**_- and it really only takes a moment for the chef and the swordsman to put two and two together.

"You. Get out." The statement leaves Zoro's mouth like some kind of poison, quiet and vicious and carrying the promise of a lot of pain in the near future if his demand isn't met.

There's some kind of baffled sputtering noise, at which point Sanji decides that double-teaming is okay, just this once. "You heard the marimo. Out."

For a second, _he _just keeps making shocked noises, but then he takes a quick breath of his own and if Usopp didn't know any better there was some kind of comprehension behind it. The voice in the back of his head tells him that he's not a bad guy, really, he didn't know what they were going to do and he would have stopped them if he did, but having him gone is still too promising for him to listen to that voice.

The door shuts and _he's_ gone and his friends are giving him that _look, _the one that means they're trying not to freak out about something while he's trying not to freak out, too. He's about to ask where they are, because this bunk room isn't entirely familiar, when a little bit of clarity seeps into his mind.

The Thousand Sunny. Their new ship, the one that Franky made. Because Merry couldn't have been fixed anyway. The memory is like a sharp prod to the raw wounded feeling in his chest, but he ignores it in favor of taking deeper breaths and trying to slow down his heart. Sanji carefully stoops and picks his blanket up off of the floor, holds it out like a trainer offering a reward to a wild animal while Zoro reaches down and tosses his pillow back into place- and Usopp thinks that he's seeing guilt in the two of them. After a second's consideration, he reaches out and wraps the blanket around his shoulders, hating his wet face and his shaking hands and the fact that he's making his nakama feel guilty over anything.

They don't ask him about his nightmare because they _know_ what it was about. Even if they did ask, he knows he wouldn't tell them anything. He scoots backwards on the bed a little and they start, like they're expecting to have to catch him or calm him down or something like that, which is both annoying and nice of them. Ah, and there are his knees, weak and feeling a little like jelly, but he pulls them close to his chest anyway, leans against them and closes his eyes with a little exhale.

Everything just…It was all so…The nightmares were always the worst part. But not as bad as it had been the first time, when he was alone in a sinking ship and had to curl up into a ball on the deck to keep himself silent.

He shudders a little before looking back up with some kind of weak resolve, peeking over his kneecaps like he's a stupid kid. They watch him and there's still guilt there, guilt and concern and some kind of anger but he's too tired to ask about it. Tomorrow, he tells himself, after he'd apologized to Franky. "I'm okay now," he offers quietly, voice a little hoarse but not all that different from its usual state. "I didn't…I-I'm sorry."

They don't mention the fact that he's not really apologizing for waking them up and he's incredibly grateful for it. But he doesn't mention that, either.

Sanji lets out a little shaky sigh of his own and carefully fiddles with the corners of Usopp's blanket until he's satisfied with its positioning, then makes his way out the door for a cigarette (or two, or three, and maybe he'd have a drink while he was at it). He'd tell Franky that yes, he would be spending the rest of the night in another one of the many rooms on the ship and no, Usopp _really_ didn't hold what had happened against him (whether or not the same could be said for him personally, on the nights when this happened, remained to be seen). And if he found out that Usopp was asleep after he'd done all that- which he wouldn't be, he almost never was- then he wouldn't have to think of an excuse for suddenly not wanting the mug of hot chocolate that he would be bringing back to bed with him. Just in case.

Zoro watches him go and shifts around a little uncomfortably, because the stupid shit-cook had just left him on comfort-duty like it's something he's supposed to be good at. He doesn't know if it's a personal vendetta acting up or if the chef just doesn't want to have to handle it himself but either way, it always ends up with silence. And...and damn it, silence wasn't going to do Usopp any good, because this wasn't daydreaming on deck in a companionable way. It was frightened silence, the kind that children fell victim to while they prayed that the boogeyman wouldn't see them under their covers- the kind that always ended up eating away at everything until you couldn't remember a time without it.

And he's just not _good _at making people realize that they don't need to be afraid. So he grabs the pillow again and hands it over and gets up to go back to bed without saying a word- until he squares his shoulders, turns on his heel and sits back down next to the pale, shaky kid that's temporarily replacing his friend. Judging by what he can manage to see of the other face from his current position, even that little bit of effort is reassuring. Usopp relaxes just a little bit, like maybe he feels a bit safer just because Zoro balled up and decided not to pretend nothing had happened. If Usopp feels safer, then he's doing his job properly, he determines. Defending the marksman was second-nature by now, and seeing that little dropping of shoulders loosens up a knot in his stomach that he'd never known was there.

He never wants to see his nakama so afraid again. He _won't_. It takes a minute, but he comes to the decision that if he's going to say anything it might as well be to that effect.

"It's...okay," he says, studying the floor, trying to figure out the right words. "Or it's- it's _going _to be, or something like that. Because right now you're not okay; actually, you kind of look like shit."

His companion snorts a little, or maybe it's a sniffle, he can't really tell because he's so busy trying to count how many boards it had taken to make this room. Which feels kind of like running away, which is the opposite of what he's going for. After another second, he lets familiar determination take over his face once again. When his eyes meet Usopp's, they're as fierce as ever and he can't help but feel a little like Luffy must when he makes those final, set-in-stone decisions. "We won't let it happen again. Ever."

Usopp nods a little.

"And you know that for sure now."

"...yeah."

"So stop having nightmares about it. You don't need to anymore."

He figures that Usopp's the only one that could actually find a way to benefit from a straightforward demand to stop something he couldn't control. Anybody else probably would've cried or gotten angry or not really done anything at all, but Usopp actually smiles at him. "Guess not."

He's not Luffy, so just deciding not to have them probably won't do anything, but the effort alone is worth appreciating. Zoro crosses his arms over his chest, closes his eyes and leans back to nap until Sanji decides to drag his pansy ass back in for the night.

Usopp asks if he's allowed to tell a story, which translates as "I'll feel better if I can occupy myself for a while," so the swordsman lets him.

And it's not like hearing it makes him feel better too or anything.

* * *

_I'll get around to bettering my 'skillz' eventually. Maybe I need to try to get the other 90% of my brain out of TMNT xD_


End file.
